Father and Son
by anakinlove
Summary: Well, I decided that I wanted to write a whole bunch of cute little one shots about Damian and his father so I did. Then, I decided to share!
1. The Picture

Damian crumpled the paper slightly as he held it behind his back. His father paced in front of him, talking to a few corporate directors. They gazed interestedly at what he had to say; obviously whatever it was was important. Damian yawned slightly and shifted his weight to one side. What he really wanted right then was to sleep, but this was important.

When he had been told he was to spend the entire day with his father, he had been excited. What he hadn't realized, however, was that he would spend the entire day in the office with his father and his father's office was one of the most boring places he had ever been in. Damian had stayed up late the previous night and now was ready to drift off, but there was just one thing left he had to do.

Damian slowly and tentatively padded over to his father. He tugged on his coat. Bruce paused mid sentence and gazed down at him. "Damian, I'm kinda busy, can I help you in a little while?"

"Sure", Damian said softly, turning to walk off. Now, if it had been Dick, Bruce wouldn't have worried too much. Had it been Jason, he would have been slightly more concerned. Had it been Tim, he would have been even more concerned.

But, for none of them would he have interrupted his important meeting, being that whatever troubled his charges could be resolved after he had finished and they would not take it as a judgment upon the importance of whatever they had to say. As it were, Damian was the small boy walking away slowly, dragged his feet.

"Continue", Mr. Bebop said.

Bruce hesitated and said, "Just a moment."

"Mr. Wayne", Ms. Noodles said sternly, "We don't have a lot of time."

"I know", Bruce said, "I'll just be a second." He turned to follow his son. "Damian", he said. Damian turned. "Come on", Bruce murmured, leading the boy out of the room and into the hallway. Once they got out there, he closed the door behind him/

Bruce knelt in front of his tiny son (author's note: he's so tiny and adorable and precious, I just want to squeeze him because he's my tiny angle of violence!) and put a hand on his shoulder. "What's up?" he asked. Damian averted his eyes. "I know it's been a long day, I haven't enjoyed it all that much either. I'm sorry you had to hang around here, but we'll be leaving soon. Is that what you wanted to ask about?" Damian shook his head. His father gazed expectantly at him.

"Well", Damian said softly, "back when you were…indisposed, I lived with Dick." Bruce nodded.

"Dick enjoyed telling me stories of his time with you when he was small, making me suffer through several of them a week." Bruce smirked at this. "He told me of a certain thing he used to do for you." There was a pause.

"Yes", Bruce asked.

"He spoke of drawing for you…pictures." Bruce nodded.

"He drew me quite a few, did he show them to you?" Damian nodded.

"They were poor." Bruce chuckled.

"I thought he was a pretty good little artist. Anyway…" he prompted.

"I thought", Damian said slowly, "that perhaps, since you enjoyed receiving them from him, as he claims, you might wish to receive one from me." Slowly, he drew from behind his back a piece of paper and handed it to Bruce.

"See", he said softly, pointing to the first part of the picture, "Here we are swinging across the city to fight the Joker and here we are fighting him. And then, that's us, hugging because we won. Dick's pictures all had people hugging, or trying to strangle each other, I couldn't really tell, but I assumed this pleased you so I chose to include such a scene."

A big grin crossed Bruce's face and he reached out to draw Damian close. "Thank you so much kiddo", he said, "I love it."

"You…you do?" Damian stammered incredulously. Bruce nodded, holding him at arms length so he could gaze at him, elation lighting his face. "I'm gona have to tell Dick I'm now included in the elite "Damian drew me a picture that didn't include my death" club." Damian snickered wickedly.

"Here Tim, I drew you a picture."

"You did?"

"Yes"

"Ohh thanks Damian, you certainly were prolific with the red here. Is that my costume in tatters or blood?"

"Both"

"Lovely, and oh look, what wonderful knives. I love how you put one right between my legs."

"No point in you passing on your defective genes."

"Well, since I'm dead in this picture, judging by my tongue hanging out of my slightly parted jaws and the axe creating a gaping hole in my chest, I guess we don't have to worry about that."

"Well, I wanted to make absolutely sure."

"The crow consuming my liver is a nice touch."

"Actually, it's your spleen."

"Golly gee Damian, I'll cherish it always".

Bruce hugged him again and kissed the side of his head. "You are such a good boy", he whispered fiercely. Then, he lifted him up, holding him to his chest.

"Well, that brightened up my day considerably; I'll hang it up next to the Mona Lisa when we get home (author's note: Yes, Bruce Wayne does own the Mona Lisa, the one in the Louve is a fake)." Damian yawned widely and blinked a few times, a definite sleepy aura surrounding him.

"You need a nap baby bird?" Bruce asked gently. Damian nodded, tired enough not to take offense at the use of the nickname. Bruce carried him back inside the meeting room. He laid him gently across two of the chairs and draped his suit coat over him.

The boy stretched slightly and then went limp. Bruce leaned down and kissed his forehead. He folded up the picture and put it in his shirt pocket. "Right over my heart", he whispered, patting the picture. Damian gave him a tiny grin. Bruce gently pushed back his hair and then strengthened up to continue his meeting.

"Mr. Wayne", Mr. Globalob said, "this is an extremely significant meeting. Whatever your son needed, it probably could have waited. It can't have been all that important."

"It was important to me", Bruce replied coolly, "Now, shall we continue?" Damian grinned. He loved his dad.


	2. Playtime

"Father", I said, walking in, "May I ask you something?" My father, for his part, was quietly working away at one of his newest projects. He looked up when I walked in, his eyes hard and flashing. He was obviously annoyed by something so I debated weather or not it was a good idea to ask him what I wanted to, but I decided I wasn't going to get another opportunity.

"Father, I wanted to know if perhaps you might like to…" He was gazing expectantly at me. "Well, I was talking to Grayson and he was showing me things and he said that you and him used to…" This was definitely harder than I had thought it would be. He was still gazing; still waiting.

"Damian, I have a lot of work to do. Maybe you could hurry this up a bit or maybe we could talk about it later." I gave a sigh.

"I was wondering if perhaps you might have a little time to…play with me." This last part I whispered, terribly uneasy all of the sudden and sure he would reject my offer. To my surprise, his gaze softened considerably.

"You want me to play with you?" he asked. I nodded slowly, hesitantly. "I do have a lot of work", he mumbled to himself.

"Well", I replied, "I mean, it doesn't matter. You don't have to. It was just a stupid idea anyway." I turned to walk out.

"What would you like to play?" I spun around, shocked and saw him gazing at me, a small smile on his lips. "What would you like to play?" And then, I was at a loss. I had no idea what I wanted to play. I hadn't even thought he'd say yes and I certainly hadn't planned ahead this far. I just wanted to be with him for a while, that was all.

"Umm, I don't know, I guess, something." I looked up at him pleadingly and he chuckled.

"Figured I'd say no huh." I just shrugged. "Lets go outside and toss a ball around for a while."

"I thought you were busy", I replied. He shrugged.

"I'll finish up later. Lets go." With that, he walked out of his office and outside, stopping a brief moment to get a football. "You know how to throw one of these", he asked. I shook my head. "It's real easy." He knelt down and beckoned me foreward. "Alright, you hold it right here." He took my small hand in his large one and positioned it on the oddly shaped ball. "Now, when you throw, give it a flick with your wrist like this."

He guided my hand through the motions and gave the ball a throw. It spun from my fingertips and spiraled away. He turned to me, smiling. "You get it?" he asked. I nodded swiftly and watched as he jogged off to get the ball. "We can practice your catching and throwing", he called from across the yard and with that, tossed the ball.

It hurtled towards me and I opened my arms to catch it. It slammed into my stomach, tossing me backwards. I lay on my back in the grass, grunting. Father was at my side in an instant, his arm holding me up in a sitting position. "Are you alright?" he asked anxiously. I nodded slowly, still unable to breath after having the wind knocked out of me. Father helped me up. "You wanna call it a day?" he asked. I shook my head. "You sure?" I nodded. "Alright then, why don't I teach you how to catch."

We tossed the ball for a long while, just back and forth in silence until eventually, our game of catch morphed into a kind of keep away and I found myself being chased around the yard by my father, tightly clinging to the football. "You'll never catch me", I yelled over my shoulder, darting in between a few maple trees. He charged after me, laughing and gaining on me.

I twisted between the trucks and dove beneath a bush, doing my best to slow my breathing so he wouldn't find me. Instantly, he went into creep mood and I couldn't hear him at all. Wondering where he had gone, I poked my head cautiously out from under the brush. I felt strong arms encircle me and gave a yelp of surprised, wriggling out his grasp.

"Caught you Damian", he called as I darted away.

"Nah aww", I replied, "You have to hold onto me." He laughed and surged after me again. And, it was weird because all of the sudden, I was having fun. I'd never had any sort of real fun like this before and I'd never seen my father so at ease. My father who was swiftly gaining on me.

I surged as quickly as I could, twisted between some closely spaced trunks and clambered up one of the trees. Our chase was now above ground. Through the treetops we leapt like squirrels, I always a little ways ahead. The sun was hot and beating down, giving me the urge to take off my clothes, but I didn't. Instead, I just kept going, the branches whipping me in the face as I soared over the ground.

Suddenly, I came across a river meandering it's way alongside a field. Then, I was out of trees. Pinned with the river at my back and my father gaining, I wasn't quite sure what to do. He leapt onto my tree. "You're stuck Damian", he growled playfully, "nowhere to run."

I looked around desperately and spied a rope hanging from the tree limb I was standing on. Wondering why someone would leave a random rope there, I glanced frantically about before spying a deep pool of water just beyond it. Taking a running leap, I dove into the water, leaving him standing, shocked on the limb.

"You're never gonna catch me old man", I called, wriggling out of my clothes so I could swim a little better. They sank down into the depths of the pool and I was left treading water in my boxers. Eyes twinkling, Father tugged off his own clothes and tossed them to the foot of the tree before soaring off the branch and landing beside me in the water.

I started swimming away from him, but he reached out and grabbed me. I scrambled out of his grasp and splashed him. A giant splash fight ensued, though his larger hands gave him something of an advantage. Then, he dove beneath the surface of the water. I was treading and looking for him when I felt a tug on my legs and with a yelp, I was underwater.

I opened my eyes and say him grinning like a child and holding onto my ankle. I kicked him off and surfaced, sputtering. Then, I began to swim swiftly away from him. He started after me. He was a much faster swimmer than I, but I had a head start and was closer to the shore. I managed to make it and, still clinging to the football, took off across the field.

The grass came up to my knees and I bounded through it as I did my best to leave him behind. Father clambered up onto the bank and started after me. I felt my adrenaline pumping and my heart racing, about to burst. I was quickly becoming exhausted and stumbled over a mound of dirt. He was on me in an instant, sweeping me off my feet as he scooped me up. I gave a squeal, but I couldn't get away this time.

He held me tightly, laughing and panting. As soon as it became apparent I couldn't escape, he collapsed into the grass, lying down with me on his chest. We were both panting frantically, big smiles on both our faces. He surprised me by rubbing noses, eyes twinkling like a million stars. "Thanks for playing with me father", I whispered once I had regained my breath.

"Anytime", he replied, "That was pretty fun. Dick wasn't half that competitive. You're good at this. We should play more often." I grinned at him, nodding and, in response, he wrapped his arms tightly around me, squeezing me until I thought my ribs would crack. "Ohh, I love you so much Damian", he murmured fiercely, like he really meant it. I just closed my eyes, my head on his broad chest. He kissed me gently and stroked my hair.

We lay there for a long time, just enjoying each other's company and talking quietly about nothing at all. I could feel myself starting to fall asleep even as the sun began to go down and the air grew cooler. I shivered. He sat up, me still cradled in his arms and said, "We better get home." I nodded wearily and walked slowly next to him as we trekked back to the tree where he'd left his clothes.

"Are you gonna make me dive down there and get mine", I asked as he pulled on his pants. He shook his head.

"Lets just get back. You're gonna catch a chill." I nodded in agreement and started back towards the house, shivering violently. We'd covered a lot of ground in our mad dash and I knew it was going to take a while before we got back.

We had been walking side by side for about ten minutes, I getting steadily slower as time wore on, when he tugged off his shirt and scooped me up, wrapping me in it. "I'll carry you", he said softly. Too tired to argue and grateful that I didn't have to walk, I just nodded.

The fireflies flitted through the trees as I lay, cradled in his warm shirt and his strong arms, making everything seem magic. His soft, steady breathing and the scent of him soothed me and started to coax me into slumber. My eyelids flickered closed, but I opened them again.

He smiled at me and even the darkness, I could see it. "Go ahead and sleep", he replied, patting my side, "I don't mind." I nodded and curled into him, my cheek pressed to his bare chest. He hummed softly, a tune that danced around my head like the fireflies and, coupled with the smooth rhythm of his walking, eased me into quiet slumber.

_Bruce made it back the house so late, the moon was already high in the sky, casting it's eerie glow over the yards and making the grass like liquid silver. As soon as he was in sight of the house, Dick and Tim came rushing down the stairs, bolting across the lawn to greet him. _

"_Where'd you guys go?" Dick asked, "We were getting worried." Bruce smiled paternally down at the sleeping boy in his arms, who shifted slightly, and put a finger to his lips. Dick and Tim stared wide-eyed at the slumbering Damian and followed Bruce up the stairs. _

_The older man eased his small son out of his arms and under the sheets, tucking him in tightly. Damian's eyelids fluttered slightly, but he didn't wake. Bruce left, closing the door completely as Damian liked it. _

"_What happened", Tim asked, gazing interestedly at Bruce and the door to Damian's room. Bruce just smiled softly, eyes sparkling. _

"_We played." _


	3. Musing

My son is confusing. But, I don't particularly want to think about any sons right now, the biological one or the others for that matter. All I want to do is sleep. It was a very long and frustrating night last night and I am in a foul mood. It doesn't help that Alfred is not here to make me some tea. Being completely useless in the kitchen, I am forced to wait if I want anything until he gets back. I don't know where he's gone, but I hope whatever is keeping him doesn't much longer.

So, I lie on the couch, draped in sunshine, and close my eyes. No one is in the house, I am all alone, or so I think. "Father". I give an enormous sigh. It's rude, I know, but I really don't want to listen to him. All he's going to do is complain and I definitely don't want to listen to that right now. So, I ignore him and pretend like I'm still asleep. Of course he knows.

"Father", he says again, his voice a little sharper.

"What", I snap a lot harsher than I need to. He takes a step back. For some reason, that makes a ripple of satisfaction run down my spine. I made him give ground. I can almost never do so. Slowly, I open my eyes.

His stance is hard and his bearing it's normal arrogant form. "Great", I mutter softly to myself, "I need to sleep and now I'm going to have to argue with this one."

"Father", he repeats.

"What", I moan.

"Spar with me."

"No", I reply.

"Why not?" he snaps.

"Because I said so", I growl, "now go." His stance hardens even more, if that's at all possible and he faces me.

"Father, that answer is unacceptable."

"Too bad", I mumble, shifting so that my head is buried in a pillow.

"Father", he snaps, giving me a hard jab in the back. I roll over roughly and grab his wrist, twisting it. He cries out involuntarily.

"Don't do that again", I growl, my face mere centimeters from his. "Now go away. I don't want you here." Damian steps back, looking more than a little deflated.

"You're not the only one, mother doesn't want me either." He murmurs softly so that I almost don't hear him. I don't think I was meant to, yet I did.

'Great', I think sourly, 'now what have I managed to do?' Slowly, I sit up. "Damian", I sigh, "What am I going to do with you?" He looks up at me, eyes aflame.

"You can do nothing with me", he replies coldly, "I can do whatever I want."

"I apologize Damian. I shouldn't have snapped at you. It's just… it's been a long night and I need some sleep. You are of course, welcome here." This surprises him more than my behavior before did and I realize he is used to being treated that way. Guilt rolls over me and I lie down. "Do you want to take a nap with me?" I ask.

"I want to spar", he replies, though he doesn't sound as if he knows what he's saying anymore. My apology must have shaken him up quite a bit more than I thought. Perhaps no one has ever apologized to him before, sincerely at least.

"Well, I'm sorry son but I'm really tired right now. If you would like to spend time with me, you're going to have to do it napping." I know I'm reading into him now. I'm taking quite a leap, assuming the real reason he wants to spar is a desire for my company. This is proved true a moment later with a flash in his eyes. I suppose I'm getting better at reading people.

Damian shifts his weight from foot to foot and I close my eyes, not really expecting him to join me. I get another surprise when I feel a small, warm body nuzzle up to my side. I can almost pretend its Dick, albeit, a bit of a heavier built one. Damian is bigger than Dick was as a ten year old, though still small for his age. If he has inherited my size, that should change in the coming years. For his sake, I hope he has. I know how much satisfaction he'll get at being bigger than Tim.

I open my eyes and gaze down at him. He's shifted off a little, obviously wondering if this what my invitation meant. I pull him close. He allows himself to be moved, though he does go a little stiff at the touch. "Did I hurt your wrist?" I ask softly, settling in, "I can be a bit rough sometimes." I can feel the shake of his head against my chest.

"Mother has done worse", he replies.

"That's hardly what I wish to use as a test of brutality", I murmur as I stroke his hair, weaving my fingers into it.

"I like you better than I like mother", he says suddenly, gazing up at me. I smile.

"Thank you Damian. That's a nice thing to say."

'Do you like me better than you like mother?" The question makes me laugh.

"Yes Damian", I reply with a chuckle, "yes I like you very much more than I like your mother." Damian gives a sigh as if this is exactly what he wanted to hear and snuggles in a little closer. He's gotten cuddlier since when I first met him. I assume it must be Dick's influence. It's nice to have him near. He's warm and soft and reminds me of quieter times when Dick was still this little. Those were better days than these.

"This place is nicer than mother's", Damian murmurs. I wonder why he's talking to me like this, since I'm not sure we've ever had a real conversation, but I'm certainly not complaining. To hear him open up is a rare privilege.

"I try to make it as nice for you as I can", I reply, stroking his spine. He nuzzles me coyly, his eyes just barely peeking out from behind my arm. Again I wonder what it is that's going on to make him act this way.

"Sometimes though", he continues, "I miss the desert." He looks up at me, searching, I suppose, for disapproval.

"That's alright", I reply, "You grew up there. Perhaps we can go there together sometime." His eyes grow brighter at this, signifying that he likes the idea.

"Just you and me?" he asks.

"Sure", I reply, "if that's what you want. Just you and me." I put a hand on his backside to collect him closer. "Is something wrong son?" I ask. He says nothing for a few moments before speaking again.

"Am I a good boy?" I almost laugh because the question strikes me as one a dog might ask. But, I don't laugh because I don't want to hurt him.

"Yes", I reply smoothly, "yes of course you are."

"I'm glad we are here alone Father", Daman murmurs.

"We don't get a lot of time, do we son?" I muse quietly. He shakes his head. "Lets go to sleep", I say softly, "we can talk about spending a more time together later ok."

"Do you want to," he asks, "spend time with me?"

"Of course I do", I reply, "Why wouldn't I?"

"Drake says I'm a pain."

'Is he bothering you?" I query absentmindedly. Damian has a little arch in the midsection of his eyebrow. Remembering that on the face of my father, I smile and trace it with my fingertip. Damian shrugs at my question. "You are a pain Damian, every kid is. But, that doesn't change the fact that I wish to spend time with you. Anyway, you're not always a pain."

"Not now?" he asks softly. I shake my head and brush my lips against the sift skin right between his eyes.

"Not now."

I feel Damian slow his breathing in preparation for sleep, his tiny chest going up and down in a much smoother and slower rhythm than before. I close my eyes, anchoring my body against the couch so I don't accidentally roll over and squish him. He snuggles a little more then falls still.

ddddddddddddddddd

"Maybe Damian died and Bruce is just holding him."

"My guess is that they both died."

"Bruce is definitely breathing."

"Yea, I guess Damian is too."

"Well, maybe they had a gigantic battle and both got knocked unconscious."

"Why is everything so clean then?"

"Well, maybe before Bruce fell unconscious, he cleaned up."

"Hah, Bruce doesn't clean."

"That is too true Master Dick, too true." I open my eyes slowly, blinking blearily as I try to figure out what was going on. Damian is still cradled close, fast asleep. I look up slowly to see Dick and Tim standing over me, giggling.

"Ohh hey look, Bruce is awake."

"Unfortunately", I grumble, unconsciously collecting Damian up closer. He sags in my arms, head knocking against my shoulder.

"Aww", Dick coos, "he's so cute and floppy."

"And you're going to wake him", I mumble foul naturedly. Of course, my efforts to keep the boy asleep are futile and he wakes anyway, eyelids fluttering open. He looks so innocent in my arms.

"Father", he croons, eyes soft and glazed with bliss as his little hands grasp my arm and pulling it close so he can wrap himself around it.

"That is so cute", Dick squeals, "Dami, how come you're never that cute with me?" Immediately, Damian is fully aware of what is going on around him and he shoots up.

"Father", he growls angrily.

"What?" I reply defensively.

"You didn't tell me they were here", he hisses.

"I didn't know until a few minutes ago", I say. He gives me a pouting look and wiggles away from me, sliding off the couch and onto his feet.

"You look so cuddly there Bruce", Dick says, climbing up on top of me.

"Dick", I groan, though he isn't really all that heavy.

"Bruce pile", Dick yells, and grabs Tim, hauling him up into his lap.

"No", I moan, trying to get away, but with both of them on top of me, giggling like five year olds, "I have not a chance."

"Come on Damian", Dick beckons. Damian pauses for a moment, obviously unused to being included in much of anything.

"Come on up", Tim says, rolling his eyes. I'm proud of him for trying to let Damian in. Then, I realize what Tim was trying to get him to join.

"Wait", I say pleadingly, "Damian no wait", but it's too late. Damian gets a wicked glint in his eye and launches himself up onto Tim's lap. I give a groan like a broken chair and roll off the couch, send them all screaming and careening to the floor. My family, giggling like crazy all over the carpet.

They gaze adoringly at me, three pairs of bright blue eyes full of joy. Even Damian's are so much lighter than usual. It is then that I want them near, all of them. I feel so blessed all of the sudden to have them, the three of them, the stars in my night sky. Even Damian I wouldn't want to live without.

"Come here", I say, still lying on the ground, and open my arms. They all crawl up, curling up close, even Damian, who perches on my chest, giving me a tiny and almost completely imperceptible snuggle. I grin, drawing Tim and Dick closer, each of them laying claim to one of my arms.

We lay together on the ground for a while, listening to each other's breathing and feeling at rest. It's then that I remember Alfred's home. "Alfred, will you bring we some tea!" The all three fall into mad giggles and I collect them even closer. Damian's eyes twinkle at me from atop my chest. He so loves being included.


	4. Lullaby

"There isn't much time left", the doctor said softly, facing me with sorrow on his face. I gave a choked sigh.

"How much?" I whispered. I couldn't bring my voice to speak at anything more than that.

"Minutes maybe", the doctor replied. He put a hand on my shoulder. "I'm so sorry. We've unhooked him from all the machines. There's nothing more they can do to keep him alive. You can hold him now if you want to. No one's told him. We just weren't sure how."

"No", I said with a shudder, "better he doesn't know what's going to happen. If he hasn't long anyway…let him enjoy it." With that, I slowly turned, grasping the knob in my large fist and turning it slowly. His excited voice greeted me when I crossed the threshold.

"Hiya Bruce, I missed you, where've you been?"

"I've just been busy Dickie bird", I replied. Dick faced me, still too weak to sit up, but with a giant, sunny grin on his face. It was breaking my heart. I tried desperately to shove all that emotion back inside myself.

"Bruce", he said pleadingly, "What's wrong? Everybody's looking at me so funny. How come they took away all the machines?"

"Because", I replied softly, "You're all better."

"Really", he said excitedly, "Alright!" He would have leapt right out of the bed if the strength had been there. As it were, he was still just too small and sickly.

"Yea", I replied, nodding and smiling an awful fake smile that hurt so much, I thought it might burst into pieces, "You'll be let out tomorrow."

"But", he cocked his head confusedly like a puzzled puppy, "I still feel so weak."

"The doctor says you'll be strong soon."

"Ohh", he replied, believing every lie I fed to him, "Ok. I'm kinda tired now though. Would it be ok if I took a little nap now?"

'No', I wanted to scream, but I couldn't. "In a little while Dickie bird", I replied, "I want to talk with you first." I came over and gently lifted him up into my arms. He gave a blissful sigh. One of the things he had hated about the hospital was that I wasn't permitted to hold him, due to all the machines he was hooked up to.

"I missed your holding me", he whispered happily.

"And I missed holding you", I replied, sitting down. I rubbed his back and covered his face in small, light kisses. He giggled and tried weakly to push my face away.

"Stop it Bruce", he laughed. I smiled at him.

"I just love you so much", I said, "So, so much. Don't ever forget how much I love you little Dickie bird."

"Of course not", Dick replied, rolling his eyes, "I know how much you love me. I love you too, but I love you more. I love you as much as all the world."

"I love you as much as all the universe", I replied, "and every other universe there is." He smiled at me and yawned.

"I'm really sleepy Bruce", he said softly, shifting slightly in my arms.

"No", I whispered so that only I could hear.

"Night Bruce", he whispered.

"Goodnight", I replied. He rolled over in my arms and suddenly, he was still. His breathing had stopped.

"No", I screamed, holding him tightly, "Dick no. Nooooooooooo!" I shot straight up in bed, giving a strangled gasp. I couldn't breathe. I toppled off my mattress and clawed at my throat like it was the enemy.

Finally, lying on the floor in my room and gasping, I was able to pass a little air through my lungs. I took in great draughts, my chest heaving. Ohh, I had been so afraid. It was the most awful nightmare I had ever had, by far.

Feeling a desperate need to make sure Dick was ok, I unconsciously started towards his room. Then, I remembered, Dick was at his own home. Trembling slightly and feeling terribly alone all of the sudden, I wondered what I could do.

Damian. The thought crossed my mind almost immediately and I started towards my youngest son's quarters. Damian was alive and well, he could soothe me enough to allow me to fall back asleep. After a few brief moments, I was there.

Not wanting to wake or frighten him, I turned the knob as quietly as I could and crept inside. Damian was silently slumbering on his bed, lying straight as a bored as he always did in sleep. I snuck over. I would just touch him; that was it, if I just touched him, I would feel better.

Slowly, I sat down on the bed beside his still form and brushed his cheek with my fingertips. He looked so innocent in sleep, so normal, so much like Dick had at his age. But, Damian was bigger than Dick had been, although still rather small.

Unable to cope with his stillness, I scooped him up as gingerly as I could and held him on my lap. He was limp in my arms, floppy like a rag doll, but it was a good kind of limp, a good kind of floppy. It was the living kind.

I got up. Standing in the center of the room amid a shaft of moonlight, I held my small son, gazing out the window to the sea, which crashed over the rocks. That was the nice thing about the manor, you could always hear the sea. "Father?" I looked down at him, blinking blearily in the moonlight.

"Yea, it's me son", I murmured.

"What is it", he queried, "should I begin preparing for patrol? Is something amiss?"

"Nothing Damian", I replied, "nothing's wrong." He gazed up at me confused, his eyes asking me the question he refused to voice. 'Why are you here?'

I decided to tell him the truth. "I had a nightmare, needed to hold you for a while. Is that alright?"

"Whatever you wish father", Damian murmured, totally bewildered. I gave him a little half smile and shifted him a bit in my arms. He was stiff now; his analytical mind doing it's best to make sense of what was going on. That made me chuckle. "Relax son", I murmured. He obediently loosened up a bit before going totally limp as before.

I could tell I was making him feel uncomfortable. That hadn't been what I wanted and I reluctantly consented to the fact that our relationship simply wasn't good enough to sustain such a midnight intrusion. "Alright Damian", I murmured, moving my way back over his bed, "I'll let you sleep."

"You sound perturbed, Father."

"I am, a little." I was about to put him down when his small voice piped up once more.

"Father, may I ask you something?"

"Yes Damian, of course."

"What is…" he paused, as if suddenly unsure of himself. "What is a lullaby?"

"Why do you ask?" I queried, interested in the meaning behind this strange question.

"Grayson mentioned them", he murmured, "said you used to sing him lullabies. Is it some sort of battle song?" I snorted.

"No, it's a song to help you go to sleep."

"Ohh", Damian said softly.

"Your mother never would have sung to you, huh?" Damian shook his head. I shifted him up a little in my arms and said, "Would you like a demonstration?"

"I would appreciate that very much father, but you know, just so I know what it is, in case I ever need to know." This part he added on quickly at the end, refusing to divulge, though I already knew, just how much he would like it if I sang to him.

I resisted the urge to give a sarcastic remark about his life depending on the definition of lullaby and murmured, "Of course Damian, that's a perfectly logical assessment."

Slowly, I began to sway my hips, rocking him back and forth. My voice rumbled up from within me and I sang to him, softly, though we were practically the only ones in the house, as I suppose a lullaby ought to be sung. All the while, I patted his hip in rhythm, as one might do with their baby.

If Damian had been limp before, now he was practically melting in my arms. I moved him, repositioning him so that he head was right below my lips, resting on my chin, and drew him close to me. Our breathing patterns matched, his little chest expanding to meet my great one and contracting as the tide draws away. Everything was quiet and perfect and pure.

When I was done, he was a wet a noodle. I carried him over to his bed, convinced I had sent him to sleep. "Thank you Father", he murmured just as I was putting him down.

"You're welcome son", I replied.

"So that was a lullaby", he mumbled, eyelids flickering lightly. I nodded.

"One of them."

"There are others?"

"Plenty."

"Perhaps… tomorrow night… you might sing another?"

"Sure Damian, I'd love to sing you another one tomorrow night." I pulled his blankets up and around him, tucking him in tightly. Then, I pushed back his hair and kissed his forehead. "Good night Damian."

"Good night Father." I was getting up, about to leave when I suddenly paused. I didn't want to go back to my room, back to where the nightmares remained. I wanted, more than anything, to remain with Damian.

"You know what son, I think I'll just stay a while", I said gently settling down beside him.

"As you wish Father", he replied softly. I smiled at him, stroking his hair gently.

"We won't tell Dickie about my nightmares though, it makes him upset."

"Whatever you'd like Father", Damian replied. I pulled him close, kissing his cheek. And then, as the night wore on and the moon climbed high in the sky, I watched him sleep, his small chest going up and down and his tiny heart beating, the rhythm of living, my lullaby.


	5. Affection

**Hi everyone, I know, I know, I've been away for a while. Truth is, I have sooooo much going on right now, there just doesn't ever seem to be any time to write and unfortunately, I haven't been in the mood enough to attempt anything. That all changed, however, when I picked up Batman and Robin #14 yesterday afternoon. So, Peter Tomasi, the current writer of Batman and Robin, I'm pretty sure he has a direct link with God or something because he has absolutely been knocking it out of the part issue after issue after issue and is slowly killing me with the cuteness. While I'm not crazy about the art (this book has two artists, Patrick Gleason, who's art annoys me but has a few redeeming qualities and Tomas Giorello who's art annoys me and has absolutely no redeeming qualities as far as I have seen), everyone should totally buy this. The new cover for this story is the adorableness I got to witness in this month's killer issue. It's cannon and Bruce is touching Damian, more that touching him, he's actually…(dramatic pause) hugging his son! Whaaaaaat? Aliens you say, demons perhaps? That's what I said but no, it's just Peter Tomasi being a boss and Patrick Gleason displaying one of the few pictures that doesn't totally annoy me. Anyway, enough of my rambling, you can thank Peter Tomasi for this. After I read that comic book, I sat right down, did none of my homework, and stayed up until ridiculously late at night writing this, tried to post it last night, found out my internet was down so got up ridiculously early and posted in the morning. God bless and happy Thanksgiving! **

I leaned over the table, pouring over the information in front of me. It had been a long night but I wasn't quite done working yet. I still had things to figure out and construct, crime scenes to work on.

It hadn't been an easy night and both Damian and I had found ourselves stressed quite a bit. The boy was upset right now, probably pouting somewhere in the cave. I gave a grunt of frustration at the world and my son and turned back to my work. It was then that I felt them, the small arms wrapping around my legs.

I looked down and saw Damian. The first thing that registered was shock, which swiftly turned to concern. Damian looked distressed and small there clinging to my leg. He'd never done anything like that before.

Immediately, all the irritation darted away into the shadowy parts of my heart I hated to admit existed. "Hey you", I said gently, crouching down, "what's up?" I put a hand on his face, cupping one of his cheeks. He gave a sigh, gazing at me, and then nuzzled his way into my embrace, rubbing his head against my chest like a small cat and pressing himself to me.

"What's up buddy?" I asked gently, putting my arms around him.

"I just wanted to be close to you father", he murmured, "just for a few minutes." My heart melted a little at that.

"How come?" I asked. Damian shrugged. I smiled paternally down at him and stroked his hair. My hand moved down to his side and I gave him a little squeeze. He hissed and I pulled away from him. "I haven't looked you over yet, have I boy?" He shook his head. "Come on", I said, leading him over to the table.

He started to clamber up, but he was having trouble so I gave him a boost, setting him gently down on it. He started wiggling out of his costume, hissing and grunting a few times as I picked up the med kit. Damian was unusually quiet tonight, not growling about how he could patch up himself or whining or complaining or doing very much of anything for that matter.

"Damian", I said as I collected what I figured I'd need, "Anything wrong?"

"No", he replied. I turned around to face him, giving him a quick sweep. He sat quietly in his boxers, gazing at me with something in his eyes I couldn't quite identify but was incredibly familiar.

"Alright", I said gently, "lets see." There was a long curved scratch on his side where I had elicited a response after applying pressure before. I bent him to the side over my arm so he would be more stretched out and gently cleaned the wound. The whole time I ministered to him, he just remained quiet though every time I had him up close to me, he would lean in.

As soon as I was done, I pressed my forehead to his, gazing into his eyes. He gazed back into mine and something passed between us, something I didn't quite understand, something that made me pull him up close. He pressed his cheek to my chest. Father, he breathed, sounding peaceful. It was then that his hand slid down and touched my leg. It came away red. "Father, you're injured as well."

"Hmm", I murmured, "so I am. I better call Alfred down."

"He's asleep" Damian replied, "I'll do it."

"You will", I smirked.

"I can", he replied indignantly, "sit down." I settled onto the table and slid out of my costume, unable to surpass my grin as he hopped down and collected some fresh bandages. Then, he clambered back on, immediately turning his attention to my leg.

"Well, doctor Damian, what's your prognosis?" Damian clucked his tongue.

'You really ought to be more careful."

"I should be?" I asked incredulously, "You're more banged up than I am."

"You have been a crime fighter for far longer than I Father", he replied, his little fingers probing my wound.

"Youch", I hissed, "be careful, would you."

"Don't be a child Father", he replied, "I'm not hurting you."

"Brat", I growled playfully, giving him a little shove. He grinned and wrestled my hands away, spraying antiseptic into the wound before wrapping it up. I watched his progress interestedly as he moved on to my arm, putting it in his lap so he could minister to my hand, which I had cut on a particularly sharp machete.

He looked it over for a moment, probably trying to decide if I needed stitches. After that, he picked up the bandages. "Don't forget antiseptic", I warned, "I don't want to get infected."

"I knooooow Father", Damian whined. I rolled my eyes.

"Alright "ohh source of all knowledge" my son, you do what you think is best. It's on your head if I lose a hand." He smirked.

"You could get a hook."

"Ohh yeah", I replied dryly, "sounds like a plan. You'd have to get one too though, so we'd match. I have to cut off your little hand." I grabbed his arm, twisting it up to my mouth. "I could just gnaw it off."

"Father", he squealed, giggling, "stop it, I'm trying to fix you." I snickered and released him. He finished bandaging my hand and moved around behind me, starting on a wound on my shoulder I couldn't quite reach on my own where I had been badly burned.

Damian started slathering ointment on gently and surprisingly, it felt really good. Giving a sigh, I relaxed into his touch as he tended to me. "That feels good son", I said. He peeked his head over my shoulder, grinning at me before finishing up. I felt his cheek press to me and his arms curl around me after a moment, his small body pressing up against my broad back. He gave a soft sigh, settling into me.

We sat that way for the longest time, feeling each other breathe. "You're so big Father", he murmured.

"You'll be this big some day."

"Maybe", Damian replied wistfully. With that, he released me and slid up onto my lap to work on my chest. There was a long, shallow gash there. He straddled my legs, starting to clean it out. I put my arms around him, blowing into his hair and nuzzling his shoulder. "Father", he whined, "I'm trying to work." I laughed and released him just long enough to allow him to finish before closing around him again. "Father", he growled. I sniggered and lobbed him over my shoulder.

"Father!" Damian squealed, "release me!"

"In your dreams boy wonder", I replied, tossing him up in the air. He screamed with delight and I caught him, pitched him around my neck in a fireman's hold. I had to admit, for the all the complaining, he was pretty fun and terribly cute.

"Hey", I said suddenly, "you wanna…you wanna do something Damian?" The urge to spend time with him suddenly blossomed within me, despite the fact that I had a lot to do.

"What Father?" Damian asked.

"Umm…" I thought for a moment.

"You wanna…you wanna watch some TV?" Damian looked at me interestedly.

"Come on", I said, starting towards the exit to the cave, "lets you and I go watch some TV for a little while."

"Father, I'm still in my underpants, so are you." I smirked.

"Who cares, it's our house. Come on." I carried him up the stairs and threw him down onto the couch. He giggled and crawled over to me, putting his head on my thigh after I sat down. I put a hand on his shoulder squeezing gently. Late into the night, we sat on that couch, watching TV together in silence, just enjoying each others company like we never got to anymore.

At about one in the morning, I heard light steps on the stairs. By then, I wasn't even paying attention to what was on. Rather, I gazed blankly at the TV, my mind a million miles away. "Sir, may I inquire as to why you and Master Damian are sitting on the couch together in your drawers watching _The Replacements_?"

"Huh", I said, "Ohh Alfred, I'm sorry, did we wake you?"

"No sir, I was up and about anyway. I believe your charge is asleep." I looked down at Damian. He shifted and muttered something, his hands grasping. They found mine and held on tight. I smirked.

"Guess I better take him to bed then, huh?"

"Yes", Alfred replied dryly, "I suppose he won't be going to school tomorrow."

"Probably not, lets see, he's already had chicken pox, the flu, malaria, Ebola, what hasn't he had Alfred?"

"I haven't had dysentery yet", a small voice murmured. I looked down at him blinking in the flickering light of Splatter Train.

"Where would you get dysentery?" I asked, amused. He shrugged.

"The same place I got Ebola."

"Alright, sounds good. Put him down for dysentery Alf." With that, I got up, stretched and yawned. "Come on kid", I murmured, picking him up. He seemed to weigh almost nothing as I carried him up the stairs, cradled close in my arms. I paused for a moment outside his room and wrinkled my nose. "You need a bath boy, you're all sweaty." In response, Damian's arms tightened around my neck. I grinned.

"You want me to give you a bath?" He looked at me questioningly. "If you're too tired, I can give you one. I used to give Dick baths after long nights, gave Jason a few too if I recall."

"Drake?" he asked.

"Might have once, don't remember. You want one?" Damian shrugged and snuggled a little more. He was surprisingly snuggly tonight. I wondered why that was. Walking into the bathroom, I held him tightly as I ran the water. Damian shifted a little and blinked, his eyes focusing on the tub, which was steaming.

"Want bubbles?" I asked. Damian tutted.

'Grayson loved bubbles, insisted I had to have them in every bath I took. He was the main reason I started taking showers." I laughed.

"I guess that means no bubbles." With that, I put him in, holding him up gently so he wouldn't fall in completely and drown himself. Damian gave a sigh of pleasure at the warm water. I washed his hair gently and dabbed a washcloth over him to get the sweat off, thinking about the world as I did.

The night was winding to a close and I felt at peace. This was something I understood, something I could handle, an overtired young boy in a bathtub depending on me to put him to bed. I wondered when things had stopped being this simple.

After about ten minutes, I felt as though I had finished and pulled him out, wrapping him up tightly in a towel. Carrying him close, I took him back to his room. "You want me to get you dressed?" He nodded and so I did, tugging on his pajamas as gently as I could. Then, I pulled back his sheets, lying him down and tucking him in.

"Night son", I murmured, leaning over to press my lips to his forehead. I turned to leave but found small fingers wrapped around my hand.

"Father", he whispered.

"Yes", I asked, turning back to him.

"Stay", he murmured. For a second, I contemplated replying I was too tired but looking into his eyes settled the matter and I settled down on his bed, lying beside him.

"Tell me something Damian", I spoke softly. He looked at me, the starlight shining through the window and glinting in his eyes. "What's going on with you tonight, I mean really?" Damian gave a sigh and his eyes averted, fleeing to the carpet. For a moment, we were both silent.

"Mother…mother never really showed me any sort of affection. I mean, she told me she loved me but, in reality, there wasn't much to our relationship. She worked me hard, but I never felt her love. That never bothered me until…until I came here, to you. Then… then I wanted it, badly. But you are not…and I am not…"

"Ohh Damian", I murmured, putting a finger to his lips, "hush son." He gazed at me with that same expression I had since identified as one Jason used to give me so many years back when he was in desperate need of affection. "If you need me Damian, I'll always be here, I love you."

"And that's why I stay with you", he continued, "you show this to me. You play with me and are patient with me and I know I can be difficult and frustrating to you." He gazed at me and I reached out, brushing his cheek with my fingertips.

"I'm proud of you Damian, of who you are and I do love you, so much. Understand that, alright. I'll be here for you whenever you need me." Damian nodded.

"Alright now, how about we get some sleep." I closed my eyes and felt his hand close around me arm, holding onto it tightly.

I'd have to be extra careful not to wake him when I removed it as I snuck out of his room later, at least, that was my intention, to eventually return to my bed. That, however, did not end up being the case. I fell asleep right there in his room and didn't wake up until morning. His hold on me never waned, nor did mine on him.


	6. Prince

**I am so mad! They killed Damian in comics, they killed him! i just wnat to slaughter someone and eat their liver! My poor baby is dead because of the evil grant morrison. what am i supposed to do every month if not read about damian! i know, i'll write my own comic, i'll find an artist because i can't draw and write my own damn comics! grrrrrrrrrrrrrr! Anwya, here, have some damian, there will probably be more tomarrow, i won't be able to sleep tonight! Hear that sound, it's the sound of my heart being crushed into a tiny ball and being thrown away!**

Bruce's breathing was steady and deep; he was obviously asleep. The moonlight dappled his rippling shoulder blades. It was so late at night, Damian felt he might fall asleep right there. He gripped the sheets tightly with his small hands until they sweated through, leaving tiny, palm shaped wet spots.

Damian gazed with such intensity at the older man, it was a wonder he didn't wake. As it were, Bruce merely shifted his weight and rolled over, mouth open. He hadn't had a chance to sleep in quite a while; the new case they were working on took much time and it was good thing Bruce had cracked it before he had cracked, or he just would have kept right on working at it until he dropped.

Now, he slept, deep and dreamless and Damian sat, fear tapering his form, and watched his father slumber. Many a night he had come to witness his sire's sleeping countenance, for it soothed him a way words could not describe. Yet tonight… well, tonight was different. Tonight was so much heavier.

His mother weighed on his mind like a pound of bricks. He was like her in so many ways, though he wished he were not. Talia had manipulated his genes, he had no doubt about that in his mind, and he wouldn't put it beyond her to place something within him to make him one day take apart his surrogate brothers, if not his father along with them.

His soon to be biological brother, his clone, this troubled him as well. In his dame's quest for perfection, she had torn her elder son apart. Damian knew, with little doubt in his mind, that when the second came of age, he, himself, would be dealt with. His mother would dispose of him just as she had disposed of so many other things. He was nothing but garbage to her now.

And so it was that Damian now knelt, heart in turmoil, in his father's presence. What he wished for now was Dick, Dick who had strong arms, a soothing voice, a firm chest and no questions asked.

Damian would come in at the dead of night and Dick was never angry. He never queried unless Damien wanted to talk, which he rarely did; he just shifted and opened his arms, inviting the boy to lose himself in the older man's musky scent and warm embrace providing a kind of vacuum into which all his nightmares fled.

All that was left was the assurance of love; love pure and unconditional. Dick understood his younger brother and his needs like no one else did. Damian wasn't sure his father was of the same ability to soothe.

Unable to cope any longer, Damian scooted up to his father's side. Bruce's eyelids fluttered open and he noticed the small boy sitting on his bed. Long nights spent quivering on patrol and dozing on the job, as well as years of sleeping lightly in preparation for the crying of young children plagued by nightmares, had guaranteed the dark knight only cursory slumber at all times.

"Damian", Bruce said blearily, stretching out slightly before going limp, "is there something I can do for you?"

"I am troubled father", Damian said softly.

"And what is troubling you?" Bruce yawned.

"I'd rather not…I'd rather not speak of it."

"As you wish." Bruce replied, "Is there something you want of me?"

"Perhaps I might be permitted to stay for a spell?"

"If that's what you desire", Bruce murmured sleepily, lids already slipping down over the drowsy blue stars that twinkled in his eyes. Damian, in lowering himself slowly onto the sheets, paused halfway between lying down and sitting up. "Are you sure this would not bother you?" Bruce shook his head.

"Of course it won't Damian, you're welcome here." His eyelids fluttered and then fell closed. Damian, still eyeing him like a small bird eyes a dozing cat, fell fully upon the sheets, stretching out on his side. Bruce's breathing was steady and low so that Damian knew his father was falling asleep.

"I fear the darkness", Damian said softly, "That's why I came." Though he had never voiced such reservations to Dick and had hardly planned to speak at all with his father about them somehow, they had simply come out. It was his sincere hope that his sire would simply continue to sleep, unrealistic at best.

"Why do you fear it?" It was then that he felt a strong arm encircle his waist and he was pressed to his father's great figure, cupped against his body. Bruce was so much larger than his son, it was as if they had merged and Damian almost forgot where his tiny form ceased and his father's began. The moonlight had seemingly infused them.

Damian looked up at his father, who gazed down at him with a gentle expression gracing his strong, proud face. Suddenly faced with the chance to unload his insecurities, Damian felt exposed. He wanted to retreat back inside of himself, yet his father was willing to listen. So, making a decision that he would force himself to follow through with, he spoke.

"Because I am like it", Damian murmured, "I am dark. I'm afraid I'll become what we fight."

"I have faith in you", Bruce replied, his breath tickling his son's neck. "If I didn't, you wouldn't be here." Damian knew the remark was meant to soothe rather than sting, yet the boy felt it bite at him. Bruce, seeming to sense this, pressed his lips to his son's hair. Damian turned back to him.

"Do you think that I am good?" he asked. Bruce nodded solemnly and stroked the boy's side. It reminded Damian of Dick and that alone helped to disarm him further. "If my mother wanted me back, would you fight for me?" Damian queried.

"Damian", Bruce said softly, "You aren't like the others. Though I love them dearly, you are a part of me. You are my flesh, my blood, my bone. That alone bonds us inexplicably. Our fates are linked, intertwined."

"I don't take the fact that I sired you lightly, however you were conceived. I am your father and that gives me responsibility for you. I have no respect for those that don't take that fact as seriously as they should. That would spurn me to fight for you, that fact that you are mine and I am, in a very real way, yours."

"You did not choose to be my father", Damian murmured.

"Yet I am", Bruce replied, "and you are here. I can't change that so I've learned to accept it. You are my son."

"But if you could change it…"

"I wouldn't. Damian, I am linked to you because you are my son but our bond runs deeper than that. Dick, Jason, Tim and I aren't linked like you and I, yet you know how much I care for them. I may not like the facts of your conception, but you are here and I wouldn't change that.

I don't just love you because you are my son, though make no mistake, that is important and from it spawns love even I don't fully understand, I love you because you are you. You are special Damian. I know you feel overwhelmed sometimes because of the others, but you are very, very important to me. I never thought I'd have a biological son. I'm lucky I did."

Damian looked up at him, surprised. "Then you will protect me father", he asked, "from mother, the clone and from myself."

"That is my job. I'll always protect you Damian. I'll shield you from the world." As if to put emphasis on this, he drew his arms around the boy, cutting him off from the rest of the universe so that Damian focused only on his mighty sire. He felt safe. Bruce lowered his head and pressed his lips to his son's forehead, blowing lightly through his hair while he breathed out a heavy, satisfied sigh, as if, in all the world, there was no place greater than this one. Damian closed his eyes, long eyelashes fluttering closed.

"You are everything to me", Bruce whispered softly to him, "Don't ever forget that. You are my son, prince of the world." Damian gave a wispy sigh and pressed his forehead to his father's chest, trembling lightly with pleasure. Bruce put a hand on his head and listened to his breathing as he fell asleep.


End file.
